"Why shouldn't I?" demanded Link sturdily. "There's not a
dandier, better pal anywhere, than what Chum's been to me. He--"

"Yes, yes," assented Dorcas, "I know. I don't doubt it. But,
after all, he's only a dog, you know. And if you can get a good
price for him, as you say, then the only thing to do is to sell
him. In hard times like these--"

"Times ain't hard," denied Link tersely. "And Chum ain't for
sale. That's all there is to it."

If one of her father's sleek cart horses had suddenly walked out
of its stall with a shouted demand that it be allowed to do the
driving, henceforth, and that its owners do the hauling, Dorcas
Chatham could not have been much more surprised than at this
unlooked-for speech from her humble suitor.

Up to now, Link Ferris had treated the girl as though he were
unworthy to breathe the same air as herself. He had been
pathetically eager to concede any and every mooted point to her,
with a servile abasement which had roused her contempt, even
while it had gratified her sense of power.

She had approached with tact the sub ject of Chum's disposal. But
she had done so with a view to the saving of Link's feelings, not
with the faintest idea that her love-bemused slave could venture
to oppose her. She knew his fondness for the dog and she had not
wished to bring matters to an issue, if tact would serve as well.